


Elizabeth I's Privy Council: High School AU

by captainofthegreenpeas



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Gen, Historical References, Parody, Protestant Reformation, Spoof, Tudor Era, ending hopefully a tad poignant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23427238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthegreenpeas/pseuds/captainofthegreenpeas
Summary: High drama at Sceptred Isle High School. Who will date Elizabeth Tudor, the queen bee? Will the school see off their rivals, Iberian High? Will Edward de Vere finally get over his cred-destroying fart?
Relationships: Robert Dudley/Elizabeth I of England
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Elizabeth I's Privy Council: High School AU

**Author's Note:**

> This AU setup is inspired by Private Eye, where they parody current UK politics with the PM as the headteacher of a school. Only in this version, the headteacher is the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the monarch is Prom King/Queen. With any luck it should make sense (or at least, make its own kind of sense) as it goes along. The jokes are based in historical fact (hopefully that’s what makes them funny) but I have MASSIVELY juggled the timeline of events.

The sun was rising over Sceptred Isle High School, gilding the walls and burnishing the swimming pool through the fogged glass roof. As the yellow bus trundled down the road, a neon green limousine with red-and-white rose bumper stickers swerved in front of it. While the school bus honked noisily behind it, the back door opened and Elizabeth Tudor got out, followed by her loyal homies, Cecil and Walsingham.   
The moment she put her dainty foot down, it landed on the leather jacket of Walter Raleigh.   
“There was a puddle.” He smirked.   
“Aw, that’s too sweet,” Elizabeth smiled and flicked her long red hair. “You should have lunch at my table some time. Shame about the jacket, you’ll have to wear another one.”  
“That would be cool,” Raleigh replied, as if that hadn’t been the reason he ruined his fancy leather jacket in the first place. Cecil looked him up and down, unimpressed. Texting with one hand, Cecil rolled a suitcase full of books back to the library. Raleigh continued: “And after school, you could check out my motorbike.”  
“I love your accent, what’s your name again?”  
“Walter.”  
“ _Water_? OMG, I love it. See ya later, _Water_.”  
Raleigh wanted to say more but he was pushed aside by Blanche Parry, Geraldine of Lincoln and Bess Hardwick, who all flocked around Elizabeth. Bessie Throckmorton joined in, admiring Walter’s figure as she passed by.

* * *

“Hey, William!”  
“Jesus Christ!” William More leapt half a foot into the air.   
“Not quite.”   
“ _I’m on the toilet_ , is now the time?”  
“I needed to speak to you urgently.” Walsingham peered over the toilet stall, his nose slightly squashed on the wall. “I need your help. Ursula St. Barbe- you know her, right? She’s co-chair of the Gardening Club with me- anyway, she’s broken up with Richard Worsley now that he’s graduated, and now she’s crying and telling all her friends she’s going to be single forever. Help me, William, I don’t want to be single forever!”  
“I thought you were dating Anne Barnes,” William replied, confused.  
“She graduated last summer, remember? She’s gone off to business school. I was her rebound after Christopher Carleill, but that’s in the past. You have to help me, _I don’t know how to talk to girls!_ ”  
“Really? I mean, you’re BFFs with Elizabeth, right?”  
“Not the same thing. Elizabeth and I are like brother and sister: her bros are my bros, her enemies are my enemies, and that doesn’t stop when we’re having drama. Which is good; because we’re always having drama.”   
“We all know you’re the reason Mary Stuart was expelled last semester,” William More whispered. “ _Why_?”  
“There can only be one homecoming queen,” Walsingham said solemnly. “Besides, I got away with it. Davison was the one who got detention.”  
“How did you even _know_ about it?”

“Please, it was easy. All those little notes they were passing in class? All those texts sent from behind the hot water vats?” Walsingham thought it best not to mention the acne-ridden freshman Phelippes who had hacked into the MSN chat. Or Gilbert Gifford.

“William, do you really want us to go back to that time when we were in first grade, and the school split into two cliques, with their own basketball teams, and everyone was like, all pass-agg and spammed their team’s roses everywhere? You remember how divided the school was? It was like civil war. And that was before the school left the local authority and went indie when we were in middle school, and the principals kept changing their minds about what the rules were. Local Schools Administrator Cromwell closed down the staff rooms and sacked loads of the teachers and Robert Aske got expelled for all the student protests. I’m having enough trouble as it is with all the Jesuits hiding in lockers after school to spy on the Bible Study group, claiming they’re only doing it to watch Will Somers’ stand-up videos on Youtube. We can’t have that kind of rivalry anymore. Not with the Armada Swimming Gala home game coming up.”  
“Oh hell yeah. How’s training going? Drake must be busting a gut.”   
“I don’t know, man. Drake says he’s got it handled. Most days he chills at the bowling alley and talks about all the places he went on vacay last year.”  
“…Okay? Okay. I’ll give you pointers, like you asked. Just maybe you should wear less black, hm? I’m not sure you can pull off the goth look.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Edward de Vere was hiding at the park, skiving school and listening to emo music. He had farted in front of Elizabeth Tudor, of all people, and it would take him at least a semester to get over it.

* * *

“Okay, class,” Dr Dee said dreamily. “Everybody get out your Aztec obsidian mirrors. Today’s lesson: talking to angels.”  
“Are you sure he’s legit?” Millie Cooke whispered to her boyfriend, William Cecil, leaning over the gas taps. “I mean… this isn’t, like, against the rules, is it?”   
“If he’s good enough for Principal Whitgift, he’s good enough for me,” Cecil replied. “How’s the Languages Club?” (Everyday afterschool, Theobalds Auditorium in Tyndale Block. Come along for extra credit to go towards languages and classics majors at college).   
“It’s going really well! My sisters and I are building up a good team. I’ve finished Basil the Great’s sermon on Deuteronomy, and I’m making good progress on my John Chrysostom. Burly, honey, we have got to get this school back on its feet-“  
“I know, I know.” Cecil blushed that she was using his nickname in public.   
“Scholastically, not just in sports.” She paused for emphasis. They were both thinking of Elizabeth’s older sister Mary, who graduated without honours. Everyone knew how embarrassing it was for the school when her debating team lost the Calais Cup trophy.   
“Well done, Elizabeth!” Dr Dee beamed, examining her work. “You’re a natural! Oh, and class? I’ve moved the pop quiz to 15 January. I just think it’s the best day for it.”

* * *

“What’s the score?” Elizabeth slipped back between Cecil and Walsingham, as they sat on the edges of their seats.  
“Not good. Robert Dudley’s trying his best, but Philip Sidney’s been taken off with a leg injury. He’s not gonna be able to play for the rest of the season, at least. Even if Dudley gets another three-point shot in super fast, I think we’re gonna lose this game. ”  
“If we’re gonna stay in the league, we gotta win the Armada Swimming Gala. I’m texting John Hawkins as we speak.”  
“Jesus,” Elizabeth swore.

* * *

The next day at recess, Elizabeth went to find Robert Dudley. He was standing under a portrait of Principal Cranmer (whose wife, rumour has it, was a Youtuber specialising in unboxing videos).   
To her horror, she saw he was kissing Lettice Knollys. 

* * *

“MOVE, EVERYBODY!” Bess Hardwick barked, shoving gawkers out of the way to clear a path for her and Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s eyes were welling with tears  
“C’mon, let’s go find somewhere we can talk privately- _not_ the stairwell, everyone’s hanging around there.”  
The two girls barged into an old damp Portakabin, where Bill Shakespeare was DMing _Hamlet_ , his group’s latest D&D campaign. Burbage was in the middle of rolling for decisiveness.  
“Get out, nerds.”  
Shakespeare was about to protest until he remembered that Chris Marlowe ended up with a black eye in mysterious circumstances when he was DMing in a bar that juvenile delinquents frequented. Once they were gone, Elizabeth sobbed onto Bess Hardwick’s shoulder.   
“It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. He’s not worth it.”  
“We’ve been friends for ages, how could he go behind my back like that? We did everything together, we even had detention together that time in freshman year! He couldn’t even hang out with Mary Stuart for me, because he wanted us to be together!”  
“Tell me about it. Remember Talbot, my boyfriend? Ugh. _Totally_ besotted with Mary, it was gross. Such a drag to have to pretend to be her friend for you.”  
“You know you’re the only girl I’d trust to hang out with her, you know that right?”  
“All men are trash.” (Bess had recently taken up building houses on Minecraft to distract herself from the whole messy business, but she was still angry with her ex.)  
“Alencon wasn’t trash. I miss him so much, he was so cute. My Frog. He had my heart the moment he won that high jump competition.”  
“Look, let’s cheer ourselves up this weekend. We’ll get slurpees with the girls and check out Chris Hatton’s Instagram.”  
“You’re so right.”

* * *

Elizabeth’s mood did not improve when Bess Throckmorton started dating Walter Raleigh.   
“I can’t believe Mr Knox hasn’t been fired yet,” she grumbled to Geraldine as the supply teacher ranted about girls not following the dress code before making a sexist joke.   
“At least Mr Stubbs isn’t working here anymore.”  
“Ugh, he was the worst. All those snide comments in the school magazine about me and Anjou being lovebirds. Well, it’s not like he could work properly anyway once he broke his hand that badly. I refused to sign his cast when he left. That showed him.”

* * *

  
The day of the swimming gala saw sharp, harsh winds. The swimming team of 34 students sat at the head of the student body as they gathered for assembly. Principal Whitgift made a long dry sermon before handing over to Elizabeth for her speech to the school:

“Students, I have been told by my homies to watch my back, to avoid large crowds in case they backstab me; but, I can assure you, I do not want to live to distrust my loyal schoolmates. Let the bullies fear, I have always worked so hard so that apart from my faith in God and Jesus I have placed my greatest trust in the loyalty and goodwill of my fellow students. Therefore, I am coming to the gala as you see today, not for the lols, but because I’ve decided, if I have to, to get into that pool and swim with you myself, if that’s what it takes for us to win. I know I have the body of a weak and feeble sportswoman; but I have the heart and stomach of a champion –and shame on Iberian High, or any other school, who dare to enjoy our hospitality and then try and take our trophies; I’d rather die than live with _that_ shame. I myself will be your cheerleader, judge, and rewarder of every one of your earned medals on the track. I know already, because y’all keep telling me, that you deserve rewards and cookies, and, I assure you, as homecoming queen, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean time, the swimming coach Mr Howard shall be in my stead, who is the best of the best; I don’t doubt that if you follow the rules, work together, and give your best in the pool, we shall shortly have a famous victory over the rivals of our school and our students.”

“Not very sportsmanlike,” someone grumbled at the back, but their neighbour elbowed them. Fortunately, Will Kemp led his fellow cheerleaders in such a stunning dance that everyone forgot that comment.

* * *

The team won the gala- or to put it more accurately, the Iberian High team lost the gala. Their swimming coach was inexperienced and their lunches weren’t even packed properly. Regardless, the Sceptred Isle team were drenched in glory and Elizabeth promised custom made medals she had designed herself. Sure, she hadn’t got the Calais Cup back like she had always wanted, but she definitely outshone her sister now. No-one would be forgetting the Armada Swimming Gala anytime soon, maybe not even after she graduated. Maybe it would be as well-remembered as Henry Plantagenet’s team winning the Agincourt Pentathlon. Posters celebrating the victory were plastered all over the school, and a few had already been rolled up and stored in the school’s archives, for the memories.

* * *

Later that summer, Margery Norris popped her head around Elizabeth’s door, where she was lying down with a summer cold.  
“Hey,” she said softly. “It’s Robert Dudley, he’s graduating early. He wrote you this letter.”  
Elizabeth took the letter and waved her away. When Margery had gone, she opened it. 

_Please forgive me, I know it’s kind of cocky of me to have the nerve to ask you how you’re doing and if you’re okay, but all I want is for you to be happy and live long and prosper (I know, I’m kind of a nerd too underneath it all). I’ve got a bit of a cold myself but I’m using that old chicken soup recipe you told me about ages ago, and it works so much better than all the cough sweets. I could bow down and kiss your feet! I’m gonna go have a hot bath later too. You’re my best friend and you know I’d do anything to help you, and I’m a proud guy, but not so proud that I’m embarrassed to say soppy things like that._   
_Robert Dudley_

Elizabeth folded up his letter. Uncapping her favourite gel pen, she labelled it ‘his last letter’ and put it inside the memory box on her bedside table. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me, I have next to no knowledge of the rules of D&D. Or the rules of basketball. Or much knowledge of swimming galas (it’s been years since I had one at school). Also, as a Brit, my knowledge of American high schools stems entirely from cinema, but I hope my ignorance makes this piece more amusing, rather than less.


End file.
